In the Garden with: Tania Compton
Earlier this month, I spent an afternoon in Tania Compton’s garden, a world of quiet calm nestled in the beautiful Wiltshire countryside, not far from Tisbury. As we strolled, Tania reflected on her gardening philosophy, the path that brought her here, and her unique passion for plant-based dyeing. For her, creating dyes is more than an art or a hobby—it’s a way to catalogue moments from the ever-changing life of her garden, each dye representing an “afterlife” of sorts for different plant varieties.
Known for her ability to blend formal design with ecology, creating gardens that feel both intentional and instinctively natural, Tania is a celebrated garden designer and plantswoman. Her designs reflect a deep respect for the character of the landscape she is working with, a philosophy that’s been developed through years of experience across Europe and her early training at East Lambrook Manor. She studied at The English Gardening School, where she met her husband, botanist Dr. Jamie Compton. Beyond her design practise, Tania is passionate about plant-based dyeing, an art she approaches with the same attentiveness she brings to her gardens. Through her work, she seeks to create spaces that feel timeless, attuned to their environment, and alive with subtle, seasonal transformations.
Photo by Andrew Montgomery
The autumn sun streams through the leaves in Tania’s garden, catching glimpses of reds, golds, and greens as we stroll through winding paths. "They’re only just getting started," she says, gesturing toward a fiery Acer rubrum, whose vibrant branches are framed by a pale sky. Tania, talks as she walks, a designer at heart yet happy to let nature have its say.
“Each tree here has its own mind,” she explains, a light touch on a Liquidambar whose leaves will blaze for weeks yet. Her approach is almost parental—a careful watchfulness over her plants, mixed with respect. Tania knows when to let plants stretch and grow, yet knows, too, when to step in, pollarding the odd branch, encouraging some to slow down or make way. “It’s an ongoing relationship, this garden,” she reflects, her words mingling with the rustle of leaves underfoot .I remarked on the variety—the surprising textures and colours, each tree pruned just so. “They’ve all got their own ways,” Tania remarked. “I pollard some every five years to keep the balance. Let them take over, and the whole garden would lose its rhythm.” Her approach, I quickly learned, was a conversation with nature as much as a design: a quiet back-and-forth between gardener and garden.
As we wandered the paths, Tania began sharing stories from her journey—of early days in Paris, a stint in Spain, and finally finding her footing back in England. “Do you travel a lot for work, then?” I asked, noting the layered influences that seemed to shape her style. She nodded, adding that it all began at East Lambrook Manor, where she “learnt the ropes” of garden life. Over the years, her practice has become as much about reading the landscape as selecting plants. “If it’s a Cotswold garden, it belongs to the Cotswolds; if it’s in Greece, it should wear the essence of Greece,” And it’s this spirit—of creating a garden that belongs precisely where it is—that guides her.
We passed a pond fringed with purple loosestrife, teeming with insects. “Do you plant intentionally to encourage biodiversity?” I asked, curious about her approach to promoting natural wildlife. Tania laughed. “I’m ashamed to say, I'm very much dictated by looks first. But what I love most, is watching invertebrates acting out their existence on what I've planted afterwards. So, you know, I choose plants for their looks and then I am absolutely staggered and warmed and reassured by what happens in terms of lovely plants and insects coming after.” Her garden is a delicate balance of structure and spontaneity, its careful plantings layered over a foundation of wild beauty.
Every garden she creates, she explained, is as much about her clients as the place itself. “I design first,” she said, “but I think across the seasons. The best part is always seeing people connect with their gardens, feeling them react to the beauty of each passing moment.”
Over tea, our conversation shifted to her work with plant dyes—a passion that began, Tania confessed, quite by accident. She laughed, recalling the bearded irises that had left indigo stains on her kitchen table, inspiring her to explore the art of natural dying. “Gardens are just what you see on the day,” she reflected, almost to herself, “but a colour—a 2023 dahlia yellow, for instance—can have an afterlife, a way of staying with you.”
Tania meticulously catalogues each dye, carefully noting the plant, season, and the subtle alchemy needed to coax each hue from nature; almost as though she is capturing a living record of her garden. “There’s something satisfying in capturing these fleeting moments,” she added, “a way of keeping a piece of the garden long after the flowers have returned to the soil.”
As dusk falls, we walk over to Tania’s greenhouse, where her husband Jamie’s all-glass vintage cloches sits like a relic from another time. I notice the beautiful imperfections in the glass, acquired through centuries of use; and ask, “Do you use these for your own plants?” Jamie explains that the cloche is perfect for cuttings– or placing on a potting shed bench – but too fragile for the open garden. “I just don’t know where to put them, I’m terrified of breaking them” he remarks.
As the evening shadows stretch along the paths, Tania walks me to the gate, and I find myself lingering on something she shared earlier in the day. ”'In time, you stop thinking of it as your creation,” she’d said softly. “You begin because you love nature, or you love gardening, but soon enough, it belongs entirely to them. The moment that wildlife moves in, it stops being anthropogenic, and that's a beautiful thing to understand.”
To learn more about Tania or to enquire about her gardening design services, visit her website here.